Retreat to Dunkirk: A Poem

I found the following poem among my father's things after he died. He was not given to writing poetry, but the events described obviously had a profound effect on him. I have the original piece of exercise paper on which it was written in pencil. It is not sophisticated verse, but expresses with truth and simplicity the feelings of an ordinary soldier.
Colin Jordan (son)

Oft times at night when restlessly I lie,
The thoughts of war return to me again,
And buried pictures of the past come to my eye;
I see again the days before Louvain.

A dusty road that winds through fields of corn
That ripens 'neath the early summer's sun
Is cluttered up with refugees forlorn
All fleeing from the terror of the Hun.

The farm carts creaking 'neath their heavy load,
The tired little children trotting by its side,
They rumble on with what was their abode
While anguished mothers try their tears to hide.

As in the distance sounds of battle roll,
Then up to heaven each one turns their eyes,
The German bombers come to take their toll,
The wings of death come screaming from the skies.

And I, a British soldier standing there,
Am helpless but to offer up a plea,
And can with horror simply stand and stare,
And say, God save them from this misery.

Be still those foolish tongues which speak of war,
Wake up those minds that easily forget,
Nor let the people suffer horrors more,
May common sense and kindness conquer yet.

Joseph Jordan: A memory of the retreat towards Dunkirk.

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